


Diabolique mon ange

by Kujaku



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 22:08:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12591576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kujaku/pseuds/Kujaku
Summary: An oldie. Shameless fluff.





	Diabolique mon ange

It was a common saying, that someone missed someone else so much it hurt. Most people understood this idea, even if they knew damn well that you can't physically feel pain from  
someone's absence. Of course, that's missing out on the fact that angels aren't really people, but ideas given physical form. And even if he wasn't technically an angel, Crowley still felt pain when he took the time to think about it.

Sometimes, in the small hours of the morning when his black and twisted heart throbbed just the tiniest bit differently, Crowley missed a certain person with such strength that it felt like a knife had been thrust right into his ribcage.

It wasn't God, no. Crowley missed absolutely nothing about the bearded git with all the sense of humour of a dead mouse. No, Crowley sometimes woke up in the middle of the night with a horrible aching, and knew exactly why and who for. He ached for the smell of dust, for the slight smile that graced slightly pouting lips. He ached for the touch of feathers across his face and for soft skin under his fingers. He physically ached for the musky smell that always reminded him of incense, the day that seemed to just light up a little more, for the softness of that pearly skin under his fingers and his tongue.

The Arrangement had been a horrible idea, in certain ways. Sure, it allowed them both to move more or less freely, but Crowley was certain it had also made him find the time to get addicted. He was hooked on his angel. That smile was inviting like the smoky spirals from an opium pipe. He got lost in those eyes like if they were the most intoxicating absinthe. And when a hand would circle his waist or lips would brush across his neck, he abandoned himself to his one and only drug.


End file.
